Sunday's Adventures

Some of you may remember this picture:

From two summers ago when I went to China. For those of you who don't know the story, we crazy American English teachers decided to pay to dress up in Imperial clothing in a park in Beijing and take a few pictures. We had just gotten suited up when a tour group of retired Chinese people wandered by. They were so amused they all wanted in on the pictures. One minor stampede later, we had made their day.
After this experience, you would think I'd be a little wary of dressing up in the traditional clothing of another culture and wandering around, but I haven't quite learned my lesson yet. So when one of my friends, Debbie, told me she was getting a group together to go to a kimono festival with the intent of renting kimonos and walking around, I was totally in. As it turns out, so was everyone else.
Sunday morning, we had three rented vans full of no less than 9 crazy Navy wives, one crazy American-living-in-Japan couple who were just coming for the hiking in the area (and probably to laugh at us) 2 unhappy teenaged boys who were forced to come along because their mother didn't want them to be alone in the house all day and Dad was out to sea, 1 infant, and 1 poor husband who got roped into coming. Our three fearless leaders drove the two hours up to a little town beyond Fukuoka called Akiyuki (I think) where the festival was to take place.
Debbie warned us ahead of time that the festival would probably not be very big, and she was right. It turned out to be about ten stands selling obis and kimonos and a few miscelaneous trinkets. But we got a very pleasant surprise upon arrival. What Debbie had expected to be a kimono rental service (3000 yen to get the outfit for the day and someone to help you put it on), turned out to be a major kimono sale! For a little less than 30 bucks, you could get one kimono, one obi, one pair of shoes, and some Japanese women would help you put it all on.
For those of you who don't buy kimonos regularly, the whole outfit can cost upwards of thousands of dollars! So we all jumped at a ridiculously good deal. Within minutes, those of us with bodies likely to fit into a kimono were trying on the ones we liked from the available racks, getting an okay from a man who worked there who would check to make sure the thing would fit, then picking out an obi to match and a pair of shoes that might fit.

I'm really really glad I got pictures from this trip because I am confident that I will never be able to tie an obi, having seen it done up close and personal. I found a dark purple kimono with cranes all over it, and a lighter purple obi to match with mountains on it. My shoes didn't really fit, but they worked for the little bit of walking we did that day and I managed to come home without blisters.
The ladies who helped us dress were 80 and 76 years old according to themselves. Neither was much taller than my shoulder, and both were unbelievably strong. First, they'd wrap the kimono around and adjust the way it was arranged so it was the right length . Then they'd tie two ribbon-like strings around your waist as tight as they could without actually cutting off circulation. Of course, they didn't speak English, but they did try to communicate anyway, and "okay?" "Okay." is universal. Once the kimono was securely tied, ensuring perfect posture for the rest of the day, they'd go to work on the obi. I think every one of us had a different style of obi tying on us. Apparently, younger women get to wear more elaborate ties on the back. As you get older, you're supposed to wear a less complicated variety. So these poor Japanese women kind of guessed at our age and tied accordingly. All the results were gorgeous.

The hard part about my kimono was making the top stay together. It was a little long, and apparently fixing that made the top open up. I guess I'm too curvy to really fit into the style, but I had a shirt on underneath so it was okay. It just meant that, in addition to the funny looks we all got, occasionally a Japanese woman would approach me and start babbling in Japanese and pointing at my chest. Not exactly comfortable, but it was worth it for the experience.
Once we were all tied in, we went outside for a major photo shoot, and then explored the town. This place is called "little Kyoto" because it has a lane lined with cherry trees (and shops) like the Philosopher's Lane in Kyoto. It was too late for the blossoms to be out, but it was still pretty. We ate a lunch of udon and then spent about an hour wandering the shops and the stalls of the festival before piling back in the vans to return home... still wearing our kimonos of course.
Naturally, we had to stop at least once on the way home. Japanese highways have really great rest stops, by the way. In addition to restrooms that are usually pretty clean, they often have restaurants, outdoor food stalls, or may be a coffee shop. The rest stop we used on this trip was bustling with people, of course. The teenaged boys got out of the van, demanded money for snacks from their mother, then pretended not to know us as we wandered around getting our our snacks and using the restrooms.
We were quite a sight, I'm sure. Women wearing kimonos in Japan are not unusual, but usually they're doing so for a special occasion, so they have on the proper undergarments and socks and they're generally not American. So we got a few laughs and a lot of stares. Some of the women at the stop were brave enough to come up and tell us "kawaii" which means "cute" or "charming." But the best part happened just as we were all returning to the vans to go home.
Lana, one of the Navy wives, had been having trouble with her obi for awhile. Basically, it was coming loose and bits of the tying that weren't supposed to show were begining to sneak out. One of the Japanese women noticed this and ran up to us and began pointing frantically at the back of the obi. When it became clear that none of us 1) understood or 2) could do anything about it, she took it upon herself to make Lana presentable again. Right there in the middle of the parking lot. She put down her bag and began untying the knots until the obi was completely undone and poor Lana was just holding her kimono closed for dear life. Then, after a few failed attempts, she tied it all back together again in a more presentable manner. As she did this, she apparently tried to explain it to us in Japanese, but who knows what she said. We all commented that in the States it's rare to find a person who will tell you that your skirt is tucked into your pantyhose, much less someone who would take ten minutes to help you fix what to us seemed no more important than a tag sticking out. Therefore, aside from being amused, we were duly appreciative and thanked her profusely when she went on her merry way.
Back home, I had to take the kimono off right away to take care of Dory. I wasn't going anywhere near her dirty kennel with a kimono on. Taking it off made me realize again how tightly it had been tied. It really is a good corset. Anyway, the whole day was a lot of fun.